The Lord of Opium

12

THE LONG-DISTANCE PICNIC

Celia brought Matt’s breakfast and said that Waitress had been kept in bed to allow her hands to heal. Matt didn’t mind, because he was going to visit his friends. He’d seen them five days before, but it seemed more like five weeks, so much had happened. He made a selection of things from El Patrón’s apartment—a crystal goblet, the golden deer, a walking stick carved in the shape of a striking cobra—and then put them away. The boys might think he was showing off. In the end he took only the music box with the Mexican gentleman and lady.

Alone in the instrument room, Matt suffered a moment of doubt. María was capable of crying for a dead goldfish. How was she reacting to the deaths of her father and sister? He decided to ask Sor Artemesia’s advice before summoning her.

Matt held on to a table leg with one hand while activating the screen with the other. He didn’t want to be lured into the holoport while it was opening. The room at the Convent of Santa Clara was empty, but a bell summoned a UN official.

“Great regrets, mi patrón, but Doña Esperanza is away,” the official informed him. “She said to tell you that the doctors you requested are being sought. It might take weeks.”

“Very well. I would like to speak with Sor Artemesia instead,” said Matt.

“Sister Artemesia?” the man asked, clearly surprised. “But she’s only a teacher.”

“I like talking to teachers. Please call her.”

The man went away, and soon Sor Artemesia hurried into the room, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress and straightening the veil she wore over her hair. “I hope you aren’t angry because I was here yesterday,” she began. “It’s such a quiet place, and the light is so good for doing embroidery—”

“I’m not angry at all,” said Matt. “Please tell me how María is doing. Is she very upset? I don’t want to bother her if she’s in mourning.”

“Mourning for what?” asked Sor Artemesia.

Matt was astounded. Hadn’t Esperanza told María anything? “There was some trouble concerning her father and sister,” he said cautiously.

“They can’t come home yet. Of course her mother told her—not that María would worry about that. Emilia is always picking on her, and her father continually tries to push her into marriage. She’s too young, of course, but he doesn’t want her to be a nun.” Sor Artemesia, once she discovered she wasn’t going to be scolded, settled comfortably in front of the holoport.

“Could you call her?” asked Matt, hardly daring to hope.

“I’m afraid her mother took her on a trip to Nueva York. It was a real surprise, because Doña Esperanza never takes her anywhere. But she says that María has become a little backward where social graces are concerned. She’s going to buy her pretty clothes and give her dancing lessons.”

And keep her away from me. Clever Esperanza, thought Matt. “Do you know where my friends Fidelito, Chacho, and Ton-Ton are?” he asked.

“Everyone knows where they are,” said Sor Artemesia, laughing. “When they’re not raiding the kitchen, they’re picking flowers and digging holes in the garden. Chacho is still recovering from his ordeal, but he follows along readily enough. Ton-Ton is the leader. And Fidelito! Why, he stuck his bottom out a window last night and mooned a night watchman. The watchman threw a stone at him and gave him a bruise to remember. Would you like to see your friends?”

“Yes, I would,” said Matt. Sor Artemesia, away from Esperanza’s critical eye, had turned out to be very likable. He could see the nun letting María shirk her lessons to do the good works she preferred. “Could they bring a picnic lunch? I wish I could send them something, but I don’t know how.”

Sor Artemesia smiled. “Don’t worry about it, mi patrón. We’ve practically got an assembly line feeding those boys.” She hurried off and Matt waited, wondering how long the holoport could stay open and how he could get Esperanza to release his friends.

Chacho arrived first. Then Fidelito burst through the door, to be yanked to a halt by Ton-Ton. “D-don’t you listen to anything, y-you turkey!” shouted the older boy. “Sister Artemesia says, uh, to stay away from that s-screen!”

“Matteo! Matteo! Matteo!” shrieked Fidelito at the end of Ton-Ton’s arm.

“I’ll b-beat the stuffing out of you!”

“You’re alive! My big brother!” sang Fidelito, not the least worried by Ton-Ton’s threat.

Matt had to swallow hard to keep tears from forming. Fidelito had called him brother! No one had ever done that. He was so moved he could barely speak.

“Are you all right?” said Chacho.

“Yes,” said Matt, struggling to gain control of his emotions. Chacho had lost weight in the few days since Matt had seen him, and his face looked haunted. “Are you okay?”

“No tengo chiste. So-so.”

“Me too,” said Matt.

“Are you living in a castle?” said Fidelito. “Sor Artemesia says you’re living in a castle and have thousands of zombie slaves.”

“If I had one, I’d tell it to eat your b-brain,” growled Ton-Ton. “Now sit!” He shoved Fidelito onto a floor cushion.

“Do your zombies eat brains?” the little boy asked excitedly. “Are they horrible and scary?”

“They’re only sad,” said Matt.

“Use your head, Fidelito. How could he find enough brains to feed thousands of zombies?” said Chacho. “Do you think he can put in an order to a company in Argentina?”

“As a matter of fact, they eat plankton,” said Matt.

“The same crap we, uh, had at the factory?” cried Ton-Ton.

“The same. Here they call it eejit pellets.”

“ ‘Plankton is the eighth wonder of the world,’ ” said Chacho, quoting the guards at the factory. “ ‘It’s full of protein, vitamins, and roughage.’ ”

“Especially roughage. It’ll take m-months to get rid of my zits,” mourned Ton-Ton. Sor Artemesia arrived with a large picnic basket, and Matt was grateful for the interruption. He had his own basket from Celia. The nun also brought a bird in a cage to amuse Fidelito.

“This is María’s latest patient,” she told the little boy. “It’s a finch. See? It has only one leg. María took it away from a cat, but by that time the damage was done.”

“Will the leg grow back?” Fidelito put his face close to the cage, and the bird fluttered away.

“Don’t scare it, chiquito. I’m afraid this one is going to be a permanent guest, like the turtle with a cracked shell, the blind rabbit, and the toothless dog. Sometimes,” Sor Artemesia said, sighing, “I think God means for creatures to be called to heaven and that we shouldn’t interfere.”

“But this one is muy bravo to be hopping around on one leg,” said Fidelito.

“I suppose so,” said the nun. “Now you must be very, very careful around the holoport. Stay at least six feet away from it. I have to teach a class in math, but I’ll come back in half an hour to check up on you. Ton-Ton, you’re in charge.”

“Yes, Sister,” said Ton-Ton.

Once the woman was gone, the boys fell upon the picnic basket, and Ton-Ton divided up the food. They had ham, chicken, and cheese sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, celery sticks, and cupcakes. Fidelito poked one of the celery sticks into the birdcage, but the finch only cowered. “Give it cake crumbs,” said Chacho, so the little boy broke off a chunk and dropped it inside.

Matt had beef tamales, slices of papaya, and chocolate cake. The tamales were still hot, and a delicious odor wafted out when he unwrapped them.

“I can smell that,” said Chacho. “Isn’t it strange that sounds and odors can pass through the holoport? I wonder what else can?”

Fidelito threw a celery stick at the screen, and Ton-Ton caught it in midair. “You’re going to b-break that machine,” he said. “We don’t know how it w-works.”

“Oh! I didn’t think of that,” said Fidelito.

“I just remembered,” Matt said. “Sor Artemesia said that God calls animals to heaven. I thought Catholics believed they didn’t have souls.”

“Sor Artemesia isn’t like most of the nuns. She’s awesome!” said Chacho. “She read to me for hours when I was in the hospital. She’s a follower of Saint Francis and thinks that animals are just as good as people.”

“So that’s where María got her ideas,” said Matt.

“She practically raised M-María,” said Ton-Ton. “When Esperanza dumped her kids, S-Senator Mendoza sent them to the Convent of Santa Clara. If I had a mother like, uh, Esperanza, I’d pray to get d-dumped. Not that she hasn’t been good to us, but I don’t think she likes kids.”

“You think zombies are scary, Fidelito, you should see Esperanza in a bad mood,” said Chacho. “Speaking of kids, how’s Emilia doing? María asked Sor Artemesia, but she didn’t know.”

Matt was dumbfounded. For some reason Esperanza wanted to hide the truth, and until he knew why, he couldn’t reveal it. “I haven’t seen her,” he said evasively.

“I guess Opium’s a big place. I mean, you have room for thousands of zombies,” said Chacho. To change the subject, Matt brought out the music box, and as he’d expected, they were all enchanted with it.

“It’s so clever!” exclaimed Ton-Ton. “I wonder if I could m-make something like that.”

“You’re good with machinery. I’m sure you could,” said Matt. He wound it up again, and they watched the gentleman and lady dance. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw Fidelito fiddling with the birdcage, and the next minute the little boy had the finch clinging to his finger by one claw. “Ton-Ton! Watch Fidelito!” he cried.

The older boy turned and shouted, “Put that back!” The little boy jumped. The bird fell off his hand and flew straight at the holoport. Ton-Ton tried to grab it out of the air, but he was too late. The finch hung in midflight as the opening began to swirl with fog. It had seemed to be only a few inches away, but it moved with painful slowness. Its wings were outspread and its beak was open in a silent cry. Then it fell out the other end and shattered on the floor.

Matt touched it. Ice dampened his finger. The bird had broken into three parts but was melting rapidly into pathetic little heaps. Matt looked up to see the portal trying to re-form. He closed it down before anything else could happen. After a while he wrapped the dead bird in a napkin.